Two Years and the Straws You Pick
by lookslikeajobforthewinchesters
Summary: The thing about love, Neal thinks, is that someone who's never had it before is almost always prepared to grasp at any straw that might offer it to him – and then fundamentally screw it all up by asking for a longer straw. (OT3 El/Neal/Peter)


_Present Day_

The thing about love, Neal thinks, is that someone who's never had it before is almost always prepared to grasp at any straw that might offer it to him – and then fundamentally screw it all up by asking for a longer straw. It's the logic he uses to validate his grand and seemingly unreciprocated displays of love for Kate. It's the logic he uses to explain why he grew up with his dad's cop partner and not his mom.

It's the exact logic that got Neal into his current predicament.

_Two Years Ago_

"Are you sure?" Neal asks even as he discards his shirt and Peter works furiously at the button on his suit pants and Elizabeth tears his socks off. Peter laughs, Elizabeth snorts, and Neal waits for a real answer to his question. They both look down at him (he is laying spread eagle on their bed, nearly fully naked as they work to remove his clothes) and realize he isn't kidding.

"Neal, sweetie, I've been planning this for months and Peter's been denying it for years," she assures him. His second sock flies across the room and lands on the bookcase. "We're sure."

They move in on him once they are all naked. Peter sucks his first cock, Elizabeth kisses someone besides Peter for the first time in eleven years, and Neal trembles with delight because _somebody wants him_. Peter is almost comically naïve when it comes to two men having sex so Elizabeth walks him through it – how she knows, Neal is afraid to ask – and as soon as Peter lifts Neal's legs and thrusts into him once, Elizabeth climbs on top of Neal and sinks down onto his cock.

It's been five years since anyone but Neal Caffrey touched Neal Caffrey's cock and he thinks he may have downplayed the pleasure of it in his mind. It could also be because Peter's inside of him and Elizabeth is around him and it's all a little bit too much. He shakes and gasps and pulls it together enough to kiss Elizabeth back and hold Peter's hand through it.

Somehow, inexplicably, improbably, perfectly come all at once. They cry out and hold onto each other and ride out the high together. When it's over, Elizabeth falls onto Neal's chest and burrows her face into his neck. Peter slides out and Neal feels very alone all of a sudden. Then Peter slides up beside his wife and Neal to lay a hand on Elizabeth's back. He looks at Neal and smiles. Neal smiles right back (and it's even a real one).

"Neal Caffrey looking thoroughly fucked in my bed," Peter says with a hint of wonder. Neal feels like a shiny new toy, a bit of a novelty item. It's a skin he thinks he can enjoy because, really, everyone loves shiny new toys. "Will wonders never cease."

"Wonder is the basis of man's desire to understand," Neal says for no reason at all. It isn't often he gets quote-happy like Moz (and Moz would never in a million years mention anything said by the likes of Neil Armstrong, but Neal feels a sort of kinship now that he's used the man as an alias). When Neal does decide to quote things, he never really knows why.

Elizabeth props herself up on her forearms on Neal's chest to smiles down at him.

"I don't need to understand and you, Mr. Caffrey," she smiles. "I gave up on that a long time ago. I think, so did Peter."

Peter just chuckles, rumbling low in his chest as he kisses Elizabeth's cheek and then Neal's. He rolls over and falls asleep, leaving Neal to stare into Elizabeth's eyes for as long as he can keep his own open.

A shiny new toy…

He could be happy with this.

_Thirteen Months Ago_

Neal isn't quite sure how he got roped into watching the baseball game with Peter, but he's there sipping a beer with great distaste and shouting belatedly whenever Peter swears at the television. Elizabeth laughs at him, but pretends like he's as interested as he pretends to be and Neal takes great pleasure in the fact that Elizabeth seems happy to cover for him.

She brings them hot wings and ranch dip, to which Neal stares at her as if it's the most appalling thing she has ever done.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but wings are a sports staple. You can't watch a game – any game – without wings and beer," she sooths, patting his cheek. Neal looks at the wings dubiously before picking one up and attempting to eat it without facial or clothing catastrophes. They're surprisingly tasty, he loathes to admit (and never out loud to Peter), and the whole keep-the-clothes-clean thing is abolished after wing number three when he drips ranch sauce onto his favourite tie.

Peter laughs at him for wearing a suit to watch the game. Neal just shrugs. He doesn't really have other clothes. He owns a black turtleneck and a pair of worn out painting khakis. Everything else is either suits, pajamas, or underwear. And he's not wearing pajamas to watch the game, either.

"These are…not as horrid as I thought," Neal acknowledges with a sniff. Peter grunts, kisses him quickly, and gets back to the game. Elizabeth stifles a giggle. "Thank you, Elizabeth. It was very nice of you to make special food for Peter's special day."

"You're welcome, sweetie," she grabs his chin and plants a kiss on his lips. When she pulls back, she is staring him down with great intent. "How come you never call me El?"

Neal doesn't understand that question. Well, he understands. He doesn't understand why she doesn't know the answer. He's not Peter, after all.

"That's what Peter calls you," he says simply. "I'm not Peter."

"That's what people I love call me," she corrects him. Neal squirms because the _shiny new toy_ thing was going really well for him. Well, it had to give sometime, right? He wouldn't be shiny and new forever. Maybe they had a new thing going on here – maybe Elizabeth (_El_, he thought) wanted to push things outside of the bedroom and into the real world.

Just a little bit. Not all the way, but maybe just into the living room. Neal could handle that. He'd been sleeping with them for almost a year now. He stayed over a lot because Peter wouldn't let him drive and he refused to put Neal in a taxi after two in the morning.

Also, Neal refuses to take the subway. It was a veritable goldmine for vengeful marks and easily concealed assassinations.

So, instead, Neal sleeps in their bed as close to the edge as he can get to avoid feeling like he's intruding. He wakes up before the sun rises and heads back to June's house so they don't notice he stayed. He thinks it's a little pathetic, but it's the only thing he can think of to remind him that _it's not like that_.

Neal's a shiny new toy, not a partner. It feels wrong to him to wake up with Elizabeth and Peter, so he slips out when he can. He always has an excuse.

June called. Mozzie had a crisis. He didn't feel well.

But maybe Elizabeth wants to pretend like Neal belongs there, in their cozy house with their secret smiles and their unending love for each other. Neal can do that because it means he can stay just a little bit longer. He doesn't have to search for a plan to hang on once he's not shiny and new anymore.

"Thanks, El," he says softly. She curls into him and all three of them snuggle on the couch together for the rest of the game.

Neal thinks, _this is all I could possibly want_.

_Three Months Ago_

El makes Neal stay overnight a minimum of two nights a week now. She says she feels lonely if it's just the two of them for so long in their big bed. So she tells Neal to make sure his pretty little butt is in that bed every third night at the least or she's going to paddle it from here to kingdom come.

Neal believes here, but it's not the obligation she thinks it is. He gets that happy thrill every time he sees her and Peter and they both light up at the sight of him. He gets a little shiver when they pull down the covers and he slides in the middle to fool around before falling asleep.

He still aches about those lonely two nights he spends at June's in between. It is absolute hell sleeping in a cold bed and thinking about El and Peter curled together in a bed that smells like all of them. They're just four miles away, but it feels like Neal's in Antarctica and they're basking in the sun in Belize.

Still, he knows he's just one step up from _shiny new toy_ now and that's more than he ever had the nerve to ask for. It's Peter and Elizabeth's anniversary this weekend. Neal keeps quiet about it because he feels like if he talks, he might lose his mind. They don't have an anniversary of their own (at least they don't celebrate it – not the one they've already passed, anyways). Neal knows it – September 21st, 2010. He celebrated it on his own with a bottle of Bordeaux and as much cheer as he could muster. This essentially equalled out to him passing out drunk on the balcony and waking up to fucking seagull poo on his knee. It hadn't been particularly memorable.

They're driving in the Taurus on the way to work the Monday before when Peter suddenly veers into the next lane and nearly kills them both as he gasps.

"Shit, Neal!" he exclaims. "It's El's and my anniversary this weekend!"

"It sure is. The big thirteen, I believe," Neal replies. "Got anything special planned?"

"No, damn it, I forgot! Again!"

Neal watches Peter stress out about forgetting his anniversary for a full five minutes. All he can think about is how no one even knew that they had one for the three of them. No one forgot, really – just no one remembered the day they got together. It wasn't really important, Neal reminds himself. After all, you're the _shiny new toy_ that got promoted to _bed-and-living room midlife crisis_.

His voice seems forced to him and the words taste sour on his tongue when they roll off of it, but he tells Peter, "Call Moz. He's an expert at luxury weekend getaways at an affordable price."

"Oh, Neal," Peter says, relieved. "Is it illegal? No, I don't care. Thank you."

Neal smiles and they go up to the office where Neal pretends like he's not in love with anyone and Peter didn't spend the majority of last night with his cock down Neal's throat.

Mozzie clearly comes through for Peter because Elizabeth calls Neal on Friday to tell him excitedly about the vacation weekend (well, four days) in Savannah, Georgia with a cozy cottage and Spanish moss and a day at the spa that Peter booked. Neal listens happily because Elizabeth is happy and that's all he ever wanted. When she asks what he's doing this weekend, he tells her he is meeting an old friend on Sunday.

There is no old friend and Neal realizes pretty abruptly (once they are gone, of course) that he really doesn't have much of a life outside of them anymore. He sees Moz often enough, but Alex has been MIA for a year and half and nobody else has come knocking lately. He settles in and watches a lot of sports on TV because he misses them.

He also wonders how much this is worth. He was happy when they wanted him for sex. Now that they seem to think he's okay with having his emotions toyed with, it's a little harder. Then he gets a call from them that they've just landed and they arrived safely. He rethinks his position on hating this arrangement.

After all, reaching for the bigger straw did have a drawback.

One day, there would be no more straws to grab.

_One Month Ago_

They're one month away from their two year anniversary as this…whatever they are. Neal is blissfully happy to accept that Peter and El want him – and they want him fairly consistently and for a long time.

When they push him into bed and touch his skin, it feels like they're touching his soul. It feels right, it feels like he belongs here. He knows he doesn't, not forever, but _now_ is enough for him. It's enough in this moment, this brief glimpse of time in which someone is holding onto him like he matters _so much_. It breaks his heart to know it's not true. It's never been true.

"I love you," they both echo into his ear. _No, no, no_.

His own mom dropped him like a hot potato when his dad disappeared. He spent his childhood with someone who was kind to him until she told him his dad was a murderer. It sent him on a tailspin. If his dad is a killer, doesn't that mean he's got tainted blood? Doesn't that mean he's half a killer, too? Doesn't that mean he's scum on the world's shoe, the poor bastard whose mom loved a killer but couldn't love him?

And then there was Kate. She was beautiful, sweet, and most importantly, she cared about him. He told her he loved her and wanted to marry here and suddenly she didn't care so much about him. He pushed for too long a straw and came up empty handed. He chased her across the globe, spent four years in prison waiting to get back to her. But she was already gone, long gone, when the door to his cell clanged shut the first time.

Now Peter and El? This is the longest straw he gets. He curls into them when everything is over. He doesn't think he came, he can't remember, but Peter and El look happy and sleepy, so he just closes his eyes instead. He can feel El's breath on his shoulder where he head is cradled. He can feel Peter's breath in his hair, where Peter has his face buried. They are so close, _so close_, but he feels so far away.

Is this his to want? If it was, would he even bother wondering?

He wakes up to El kissing him good morning and Peter running his fingers through his hair. It feels nice, so he opens his eyes to smile at them both.

He and Peter make out in the shower until El flushes the toilet to get them moving. They shave side by side, shoving each other like teenagers for the mirror space. Neal finishes up first even though they have the same morning routine now. Shower, shave, teeth, fix each other's tie. He is walking out of the bathroom when he notices that Peter isn't right beside him. So he turns around and looks, and there is Peter slipping on his wedding ring. He snags El's from the little ledge to the right of the sink and takes it with him downstairs.

When he rounds the corner, he calls out 'ring, hon' to El and she catches it when he flips it like a coin. She slides it on with a smile, twisting it a little as she looks at it. Neal realizes then that this is the worst possible straw he could have drawn.

See, they have solid gold rings and he has a tracking anklet with three months left on the clock. It doesn't matter that he loves them and they enjoy his flexible tastes in the bedroom anymore. When that clock runs out, the straw turns back into a big lump of nothing. It's like Cinderella and the damn pumpkin.

He never considered the fact that they were _married_, for god's sake, and he had no right barging into their relationship like he did. He always thought they wanted some fun, but that's not forever, is it?

He decides that a forever by himself is better than a forever as a toy.

That night, he stops sleeping over at their house. He doesn't go for dinner anymore and he avoids Peter at work. When they call him, he goes and he creates the fireworks. Then he goes back to June's and trembles, naked, until he feels like a person again.

This wasn't the longest straw. It wasn't a straw at all.

_Present Day_

Yesterday, El called him on his lunch break and said she wanted to talk. She sounded worried, so he agreed to go over for lunch. She told him not to bring Peter. When he got there, she asked him why he never slept over anymore. He deflected and worked magic with his words – something he swore he'd never do to Elizabeth or Peter – and they had rough, angry sex that lasted a matter of minutes for both of them. Then Neal collected his things, walked back to June's, called Peter to tell him he felt sick, and sobbed naked in his bed for an hour.

It's not what he wants. This game of straws he's developed for himself so he can explain why no one loves him as much as he loves them…it's sad and it's not good enough for him.

That's something he hasn't said in a long time. He deserves more than a simple straw he picks blindly. He should be allowed to make his own straw, shouldn't he?

He breaks down again when he realizes that the straw he would make includes Peter, Elizabeth, himself, and eternity. It's the same straw, but he never counted on them not loving him so much. He's there's, like he always wanted, but they aren't his. It's a cold, double-ended straw.

_Fucking straws._

Someone is knocking on his door relentlessly, but he can't get up. He can't call out. He can't send them away and he can't let them in. Thankfully, someone makes this choice for him, too. The door bursts open and Peter flies through it. El follows a split second after Peter beckons her in, having declared the place safe.

They locate Neal, naked and shaking on the bed, at the same time. Peter's face looks horrified, El's terrified. They both fly to his side and El's fingers are in his hair and Peter's around his hands.

"Sweetie, what happened?" El whispers. Her voice shakes with fear and it confuses Neal. He doesn't warrant fear, not on his behalf. "Did someone hurt you?"

"Everyone did," he sobs unexpectedly and it makes him hiccup. El strokes his head and looks into his eyes for answers. "Everyone I ever loved just…they go away. That's my straw. I feel too much, El. Help me."

"Oh, sweetie," she says tearfully. She clutches him harder. "What makes you think that?"

"Mom," he whimpers. "He loved my dad. And then he died and she sent me away. She loved a killer, but she couldn't love me."

"Neal, that's not true," Peter says weakly. "She loved you. She couldn't take care of you."

"And Kate," he cries. "We were going to get married. And then she disappeared. I love too much. It's too much for everyone."

"Neal, _we_ love you," Peter says forcefully. Neal trembles and scurries away from their touches.

"I don't want to play that game anymore," he begs. "I don't like that anymore."

"What game?" El asks wretchedly. "Neal, we love you so much…"

"It was better when I was a shiny new toy," he confesses, pulling at the sheets. "Can we do that again?"

"You don't love us?"

"I love too much," Neal weeps. "Everything I touch turns to ash."

"Sweetie, no," El protests. She pulls Neal closer and he doesn't have the will to fight. "Why do you think we don't love you?"

"You can't. You can't love me. You love each other," he shivers. "It's too much to love two people."

"You love both of us."

"I love too much," he whispers. "It's not fair, but I do."

"Neal, listen to me," Peter says firmly. Something in his voice commands Neal's attention. Peter fishes out a box from his pocket. He presses it into Neal's hand and nods pointedly. "This is for you. We want you to have it. We wanted to wait until your anklet came off, but I think this situation calls for desperate measures, don't you?"

Neal opens the box and inside there is a ring identical to Peter's. He looks up with wide, terrified eyes and Peter and El both nod at him.

"This is a ring," he says.

"It's _your_ ring," El tells him gently. "It's yours if you want it. We love you, Neal. We're not going anywhere. We want you to be married to us. Now, it's not really legal to be married to two people, but we can have Mozzie do a ceremony and everything, okay?"

"You want me like that?"

"We want you every way," Peter confirms. Neal sits up and stares down at the ring. It's so similar to the one that caused his decision a month ago. It's practically identical to the one he's been jealous of on Peter's hand for the last several years. He takes it out of the box and slides it on. It fits, of course, because El probably picked it.

He looks up at Peter and El and he sees the same look they give each other directed at him. He looks back down at the ring and suddenly, bizarrely, he realizes that straws are just fucking straws and you can have whatever you want if you want it enough.

"I don't want to have sex for a while," he tells them because sex is what got him into this two year spiral of confusion and hope and despair and love. They nod immediately.

"None of us are having sex until you're ready," Peter says. El nods her agreement. "Take your time. We just want you back, Neal. It's been hell these last few weeks. We've missed you like crazy. And when we try to talk to you, you jump our bones like it's the end of the world."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. Just…no more sex instead of words, okay?"

"Yeah."

Peter leans in and presses a soft, lips only kiss against Neal's lips. El leans in and does the same thing after and Neal looks down at his ring.

"I love you," he says with tragic severity. El and Peter smile.

"We know," El says. Peter finishes, "We love you, too."

So Neal decides that love _is_ something you're given and it's not always what you were expecting, but you don't necessarily have to screw it up beyond repair.

Not anymore.


End file.
